


Basic Jumper Repair

by esteefee



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: First Time, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Mechanic(s), Oblivious, SGA Saturday Prompt Challenge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-09
Updated: 2012-08-09
Packaged: 2017-11-11 19:10:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,070
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/481896
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/esteefee/pseuds/esteefee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John repairs the jumper; Rodney applies a theory.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Basic Jumper Repair

For the third time, the stupid crystal doohickey went popping out of the retaining slot and flew across the floor of the jumper to skitter to a stop somewhere around the base of the pilot's seat. John could swear Rodney started laughing. 

Well, more like snorting in the back of his throat.

"Laugh it up, chuckles," John muttered. "Soon as I figure out how to fix this thing, I'm making you fly it."

"And I'll expect that, oh..." Rodney tapped his fingers against his knee about five inches from John's face. "...right about when the Wraith go vegan, yes?" 

John bit back a grin. "Look, just pass me another doodad." 

"That was the last one. I'll have to go find the one you so carelessly tossed—and you know, these things are pretty sturdy, but they don't grow on trees, Sheppard."

"Yeah, yeah." John watched, amused, as Rodney crawled under the jumper's console and went searching for the lost chip, his ass shapeless in his baggy uniform pants. 

"Aha!" He came up with it and promptly bonked himself on the underside of the console. "Ow! Mother of Mary!"

It was John's turn to laugh. "Eureka."

Rodney cranked his head around and glared. Hilarious.

"Now hand it over."

"What, so you can continue in your feeble efforts to prove to me you're as incompetent at jumper repair as the lowest of my staff?"

"Hey! You were supposed to be teaching me this stuff, and instead you've just been letting me mess around using this stupid diagram—in Ancient, to boot—and don't tell me you and Zelenka haven't already rewired this board six ways from Sunday so I know the schematic's for shit, anyway." 

Rodney's face went crafty, his left eye twitching. "I don't know what you're talking about." 

"You're such a crap liar." John held out his hand. "Fork it over. I'll make it work anyway."

"Riiiight." Rodney handed it over. 

John fitted the doohickey into the slot, then realized just before he pushed that it was oriented almost right, but not quite—the crystal was an uneven rhomboid with one edge just unequal enough to throw him off. No wonder it kept squirting out. Out of four possible ways to stick it in, only one was exactly perfect. 

Stupid Ancients.

He turned it twice until the short edge just skimmed the clip and then shoved it in with click. 

_Halle-fucking-lujah._

Now to check the inaccurate diagram and figure out what Radek and Rodney had been up to, because his next concern was the tangle of Earth wiring connecting the circuit board—in which he'd just replaced the busted crystal—ahhh, it was to the pilot's yoke. Somewhere in there was the short that had caused this mess, and he wasn't powering up until he found the faulty connector. And he'd bet dollars to donuts it wasn't the Ancients' hardware that was to blame.

"Hand me the ohmmeter you and Radek use, would you?" He put out his hand, and after a moment or two in which nothing happened, had to look over.

Rodney was staring at him, a funny expression on his face. John frowned.

"What?" 

"Nothing. Nothing." Rodney dug into the toolbox and came up with the hand-made multimeter he and Radek had rigged up and passed it over. "I expected you to have given up by now, you realize."

"Oh, yeah?" It was getting stuffy being crammed up in such a small space. John pulled off his outer shirt and then rolled it up into a ball and tucked it under his head to make himself comfortable, the ohmmeter resting on his chest while he teased free a bare section of the first connecting wire. He paused for a second and looked down the length of his body to find Rodney still giving him the fish-eye. "I used to work on my helos with the crew all the time. This isn't much different." Also, it was fun spending a little free and easy time with McKay, neither of them under the gun. They hadn't had a lot of time for fun stuff since they'd gotten back. "Miss the smell of turbine oil, though."

Rodney wrinkled his nose. "It always smells a little like old gym socks."

John grinned and flipped on the meter then tested the leads against themselves before switching over to the continuity tester. He touched one of the probes to the contact of the first connecting wire, which happened to be green-and-white striped, and then stretched, straining upward, to poke the sharp end of the other probe against the wire near where it met the pilot's control panel. The meter gave a satisfying piezo-electric buzz, and John moved on to the next. 

"You know," John said after the third, starting to sweat from the tough reach while Rodney watched silently, "you could give me a hand with this."

"Mmm-hmm. But you seem to be doing just fine." Rodney's voice sounded a little odd. John brushed his sweatband over his forehead, pushing his hair up at the same time, and peered down at him.

Rodney's face was red, like he was getting a little overheated too. Well, it was kind of close in here. John wished he could power up and turn on the environmental controls. 

"Thanks loads," John said, and went back to testing connectors. He found the culprit on the eighth go, the solid blue cable that from all appearances looked fine, but was the bad apple of the bunch. Using a small piece of electrical tape to mark its location on the board, he disconnected it and then waved his hand at Rodney.

"I need a replacement for this puppy."

Rodney held out a giant handful of cables. "Pick one," he said smugly.

"Oh, come on!" 

"It's not like I'm guaranteed to be around to help you out, Colonel."

John's gut went cold and he sat up quickly, narrowly avoiding whacking his head. "What're you talking about? Where would you be?"

"Oh, I don't—there's no telling what; this is just a precaution—"

"Because I don't like where you're going with this. You think I'd let something happen to you?"

Rodney raised his chin. "Well, we don't always have a choice in these things."

"Yeah, we do. I do. I _have_ to." John cleared his throat, and then eased back down under the console. "Now, give me a replacement cable. One that carries up to one point five ohms."

Rodney grinned suddenly, heartbreakingly wide. John had to pull his eyes away and back to the crystal board. He was relieved when Rodney didn't say anything else but just handed him the replacement cable. John screwed it into the board and taped the other end to the old, busted cable. He then sat up and carefully pulled on the blue cable, using it to thread the new one through the wiring harness until it reached the control panel at the pilot's yoke.

Then he untaped the ends and swapped out the connectors.

"Huh. That was a nifty little trick," Rodney said. John glanced over and caught an admiring look that made him feel way too proud of himself. He concentrating on tightening the nut on the connector and wondered what the hell was going on with him.

"Thanks. Learned it back when I rewired my car stereo," John said, grinning to himself when he heard Rodney choke. 

John proceeded with testing the rest of the connecting cables just in case, but none of them had any shorts. "All right, are we ready to fire it up? Or do I need to test the resistance of the new crystal?"

"No. Radek checked them for us back at the lab." Rodney's eyes were sparkling at him. 

That look was doing something to John for sure, and it wasn't just the anticipation of getting the jumper started up and turning on the air conditioning. John's T-shirt was sticking to his back, and his face and neck were sweaty. He knew his hair probably looked plumb ridiculous at this point from him constantly shoving it off his damp forehead, but Rodney couldn't seem to stop staring at him, and that was just making John stare back for too long. They both seemed stuck in the same weird zone, neither of them blinking.

John licked his lips and tasted salt. "Um. So I guess we're go, then."

Rodney's eyes moved to his mouth. "Yeah, I guess so," he said, licking his own lips.

A thousand impossibilities sprang from that one movement, and John suddenly felt the tension in his hips, his abs, the weight of his clothing on his body like a hand touching him, and he shuddered.

The lights of the jumper flared to life around them, glowing bright and then steadying into a healthy hum in the back of his head. _All systems ready._

"Uh," John said hoarsely, wincing. "Didn't mean to do that." 

He met Rodney's eyes and found him grinning to beat the band. "I turned you on." He moved closer, until he was squeezed into the space over John.

John made a face and rose up on his elbows to meet him. "Don't get full of yourself," he said, voice unsteady, because _holy crap._

But Rodney backed off all of a sudden. "Don't?" he said, his mouth twitching with uncertainty. 

It was the last thing John wanted, because there was playing it cool, and then there was Rodney, six inches away and licking his lower lip, a bead of sweat traveling down his cheek, looking like he wanted John to kiss him, for Pete's sake. John wasn't sure how a lesson in repairing a burnt-out jumper got them here, but if being a pilot had taught him one thing, it was knowing when to take hold of the throttle and just fly.

He reached up and brushed his thumb over the sweat on Rodney's cheek, grinning when he left a smear of grease as he settled his fingers behind Rodney's ear and drew him closer. Rodney's eyes went wide, then became a fuzzed out blur as John brought their lips together. 

Rodney tasted salty, too. 

John had some idea of starting the kiss slow in case Rodney was freaking even worse than he was, but Rodney made a sound in the back of his throat and then just dove at him, flattening John to the deck beneath them.

"There," Rodney said with satisfaction, and stuck his hands in John's hair as if John had any hope of escaping, before leaning down and pushing his tongue into John's mouth, sliding in and slipping out again, making John crazy. He could barely keep up, and found himself grabbing at Rodney's shoulders and hauling in air through his nose, his cock going hard so fast he had to spread his legs and shift his hips to give it some growing room.

The movement made Rodney groan into his mouth. "Knew it! I knew it," he said, pulling away to sit up.

 _Knew what?_ John kind of wondered, but he was too busy trying to get Rodney to kiss him again to ask.

Rodney wouldn't let him, though, just said, "Why didn't I—" and started wrenching on the buttons of John's pants. 

"Holy crap," John said, managing to pull his brain out of his dick. "Hang on a sec." Because, yeah, the regs had changed up a while back, but that didn't mean he wanted someone walking by the open ramp and seeing their C.O. and C.S.O. making it like crazed monkeys in the front of Jumper 14. John focused hard and got the ramp closed and locked up, and brought on the air conditioning while he was at it.

When he opened his eyes, Rodney was staring down at him again, that same grin on his face like John had just invented Jell-O or, hell, repaired a shorted-out jumper all by himself.

"You're really weird, you know that?" John said.

"Well, I'd say it's a good thing for you you like weird," Rodney replied, and got to work on their pants. Then, God, then he had both of them in hand, the slickness of their cocks helped along by Rodney licking his palm matter-of-factly. "God, this feels good."

John swallowed hard and tugged up the front of his shirt just in case this went embarrassingly fast. He saw Rodney's eyes flick down at his chest and stomach, and had a moment to feel self-conscious. He was forty going on Wraith-chewed and impaled, twice.

Then Rodney started stroking them both, squeezing them together in his fist, and John couldn't think about anything at all except about how goddamned good it felt. He looked down, saw the way the crowns of their cocks were moving together in Rodney's hand, and it was enough to send John right up to the edge.

He'd never thought about this, about the two of them. Never. That just made this hotter, like some fantasy dredged up from his dirtiest, half-remembered dream—his best friend stroking him off. His balls tightened up and he made a sound deep in his chest.

"Yeah?" Rodney was shifting his hips as he moved his hand, looking like something out of a _Weird Mechanics_ porn mag, with the grease mark on his cheek and the Ancient tool chest beside him with the spare wiring and the handmade ohmmeter lying next to his leg. 

"Fuck, yeah," John responded, and then gasped in disappointment when Rodney let him go in favor of jerking himself off in earnest, his blue eyes glinting down at John. He was looking at John's cock, John realized, at his exposed stomach and chest, and, oh shit, Rodney was going to come on him. 

"That's pretty fucking hot," John heard himself say, just as Rodney closed his eyes with a faint moan and nice long ribbon of come spurted from his dick and hit John's stomach. "God." John lowered his hand and felt more come splatter over it, and gripped his own cock, lazily slicking himself up, and heard Rodney make a sound that had him smirking.

"You bastard," Rodney gasped. 

John opened his eyes and saw Rodney still gripping his dick, squeezing out some last drops of jizz. It was still fucking hot. Rodney was fucking hot. John had to tighten his hand hard at the base of his dick. He wanted Rodney to bring him off, damn it. 

He suddenly wanted it more than anything in his life.

"Come on. Come on, already," John said. Maybe it was rude—more than a little, because Rodney was looking pretty shaky. "Sorry," John said, making himself tug Rodney down into the tight space half on top of him. 

Rodney just let out a disgusted-sounding laugh. "Thank you very much. You just got come all over me."

"Yeah, well, at least it's all yours," John said.

"I'll see what I can do about that," Rodney said, his voice muffled against the side of John's neck. It felt weird, but John didn't pull away. He even patted Rodney's back a little. 

Rodney let out another groan, and then rubbed his lips over John's jaw. His tongue soon followed, the rasp of it making the hair on John's neck stand up. 

"F-fuck." 

"Hmm," Rodney said, his voice analytical. 

John slid his hand under the back of Rodney's shirt, feeling his warm, damp skin, smooth and sleek over firm muscle. Rodney's shoulders shifted as he leaned to the side, and he pinned John's arm beneath him.

"Hey," John said mildly, not sure what Rodney was up to. John was kind of trapped here, between the passenger seat, the console, and now Rodney. 

"Quiet. Thinking," Rodney said, and leaned down to kiss him, a more leisurely kiss this time, his tongue sliding into John's mouth again, heavy and slow. Definitely a man's tongue, a man's mouth, and John groaned a little, low and in the back of his throat, especially when Rodney's hand roamed over his chest to brush over his nipple, thumb stroking there back and forth, back and forth. 

John really wanted to come already.

Then Rodney raked his fingertips hard down John's chest and grabbed John's cock, and John made a sound he didn't even know he could make.

His eyes popped open and he found Rodney smirking at him.

"So, think I can fly this in a straight line?" Rodney said, and John wanted to smack him one, he really did, or at least call him a motherfucker, but Rodney's hand was slick with his own come, and moving, finally, slowly twisting up and down the shaft of John's cock, and all John could do was wheeze a little, faintly, and jerk his hips.

Christ, but he needed to come.

He did manage to lift a hand, though, and wrap it around Rodney's, gripping a little tighter at the base, easing up at the head, just like he liked it. When Rodney added his thumb, rubbing softly just over the lip, John nodded and licked his lips. He could smell Rodney's come still, could practically taste it in the air in these tight quarters, and when Rodney leaned over and kissed him again, he licked at Rodney's lower lip, tasting the salt sweat and the roughness of his stubble. 

"Jesus, Sheppard," Rodney said, and started jerking him faster, a little harder, so, good move, John thought, and bit at Rodney's lips before arching his head back and shoving his hips into the stroke. He was getting closer now, almost there.

But Rodney pulled away from him and struggled to his knees. His rhythm went choppy, as if he couldn't focus on coordinating two things at once, and John groaned in disappointment as the edge slipped away.

"Sorry, sorry, just hang on," Rodney said. Then he was between John's legs and jerking him fast and even again, and his other hand was sliding down toward John's balls.

"Oh, yeah, that's good," John mumbled, trying to spread his legs as much as his pants would allow so Rodney could play with his balls better. 

But Rodney had other ideas it seemed, his fingertips sneaking underneath John's balls and sliding back. 

"Trust me, you'll like this," Rodney said, when John froze up a little, and John did—he trusted the crazy scientist, even if he didn't want to know who'd taught him this particular trick. Whatever, John was so damned close right now Rodney could start playing the kazoo and nothing was going to stop this train from reaching the station and barreling right through to the next stop. John was already holding his breath, his balls tightening as he pushed up into Rodney's fist, when Rodney pressed his fingers hard into that spot right behind them. 

It felt like an electric jolt, like Rodney just punched his orgasm out of him. John let out a shocked noise and started to come, and the whole time Rodney stroked him through it, his hands gentle now, slowing, while John jittered and jerked like he'd been hit by lightning. 

"Jesus," John said when he had his breath again, and he fell back onto the deck. His shirt had unrolled, and he almost concussed himself on the hard surface. Irritated, he bunched it up again to make a half-assed pillow. Christ, his hands were still shaking.

Rodney was digging around in the tool chest for some reason. John didn't even want to think about what he was looking for, but if he had something planned already for round two, John was in serious trouble.

"Here," Rodney said, dropping a bright red shop cloth on John's chest, a brilliant smirk on his face.

"Okay, yeah, I get that you're pleased with yourself," John said, "and maybe you deserve it, some." Because the little square cloth was barely adequate to soak up all the spunk John had generated. "But seriously, after years of being pals, what flipped your switch was me playing your auto repairman?"

John could tell right away he'd committed an act of come-stupidity, because Rodney's face scrunched up into furious lines.

"You think I have some—you think this was me acting out some fantasy? About a stupid repairman, no less?" 

"No?" John couldn't help his voice going up at the end. He really couldn't. Because there really was no other rational explanation for Rodney McKay jumping him after all this time. It was auto repairman fantasy guy, or heat stroke.

But Rodney was shaking his head. "Look, I knew, after all this time, and all that flirting—"

 _Flirting?_ John mouthed.

"Well, it was either flirting or you have some serious issues with your posture."

_My posture?_

"Of course it was difficult for me to make the determination without a control group, since I was constantly running up against the observer effect. I couldn't very well ask Radek or Miko to analyze your posture when I wasn't in the room, now could I? No, I knew it was up to me to make the first move since you patently weren't picking up on my all too subtle signals. Oh, you 'never see it coming,' it's all too pathetically true, isn't it? I knew I shouldn't have waited. How long have you had the hots for me, anyway?" Rodney asked, his grin open and expectant.

John was screwed. He could either tell the truth, and watch Rodney be hurt and get pissed and then throw a wrench in this whole thing just when it was getting awesome, or he could try to lie, which—John was a pretty good liar, except for some reason when it came to lying to Rodney. 

"That's not a very cool question to ask." John said primly, and bunched up the shop rag to toss it in the toolbox. He pulled on his shirt then got to his feet to button it up. "Besides, it's time for your flying lesson." John grinned when Rodney let out an honest-to-God squawk of dismay.

"Now? Seriously?"

"Yup. Did my part—I fixed the jumper. All by myself." 

"You did, didn't you." Rodney sounded happy again, so John figured it was safe to lift his head.

Rodney was beaming at him. And for a second John couldn't breathe quite right, like he had to take a short chop of air to kick-start his heart again.

It was crazy. He knew how he felt about Rodney, or at least he thought he knew. Rodney was team. John loved his team, would do anything for Rodney, to keep him safe, to keep him alive and happy. John had always known that. But this was something different, and he didn't know when that had changed, or why, but just that looking at that smug grin, John knew he couldn't ever let it slip that this hadn't been his plan all along. 

"C'mon, Romeo, let's see what you've got," John said, and winked.

"Oh, that's terrible," Rodney said, but squeezed by him on the way to the pilot seat, and John stopped him for a kiss. Somehow it turned into more than a kiss, with Rodney clutching at John's back and John groping Rodney's meaty ass.

"Uh, maybe—" John said, then kissed Rodney again before he could finish. They both still smelled like sex, and it was going to his head.

"Right, yes, my thought exactly," Rodney said, and started pulling John toward the back hatch, almost tripping over the toolbox on the way.

"What about—"

"Later," Rodney said. "We didn't really finish, anyway."

"Oh, yeah?" John stopped right in front of the hatch and mouthed along Rodney's jawline. There was just enough stubble there to make his lips tingle faintly from the burn. 

"I didn't give you your grade," Rodney mumbled.

John stopped and drew back. "Really." His hand was on Rodney's dick, and he gave it a gentle, warning squeeze.

"High marks! High marks," Rodney said, sounding breathless. "Really, more than adequate." His voice went low. "I wasn't expecting—I mean you always, always surprise me...John."

John blinked, then cleared his throat. "Okay. Well, you know, maybe it's the teacher." He wussed out and waved his hand over the hatch panel before Rodney could respond, and the door opened, exposing them to the sunny light of the jumper bay.

"My quarters in ten," Rodney said, all no-nonsense.

"See you there, teach."

John was really looking forward to class.

 

_End_


End file.
